


Touch

by meclanitea



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, no comment hahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3486020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meclanitea/pseuds/meclanitea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima never knew that holding another's hand would feel so strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

There’s a strange sensation in holding someone else’s hand. The more you wonder about it, the deeper the feelings become. The fit of the fingers, the tightness of the grip, the very touch of the other person – it changes you. It makes your heart start beating a tad bit faster and time seems to go one a bit slower. Sometimes your surroundings fade away until all you see is that other person, clutching onto you.

Midorima never thought much of hands. They only seemed relevant for their everyday use of holding and dribbling and shooting and writing. He didn’t even like the whole idea of touching others that much. He had only gotten used to Takao’s pats on the back and some other friendly – well the friendliest they could be- gestures he got from his teammates.  
But right now, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t die on me, Akashi.”

He didn’t think he’d ever hold someone’s hand like this. Holding on to them so desperately; praying that the worst would be over; asking them to stay because goddammit it couldn’t end like this.

Not after all they’ve been through. Not when he could meet Akashi again – the one he fell for so hard that he spent so much of his god forsaken time in that small room. Match after match after match. Midorima couldn’t give up now.

“Please.”  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
The machines started to get louder. Midorima’s hand had to practically be yanked away. He watched as a sudden surge of people appeared before him. They surrounded Akashi with their equipment and their loud voices and their white coats. He wanted to scream. He feared of the outcome – would it really come to this?  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
All he heard were mutters of apologies. He was a few steps away and he slowly closed the gap. He reached for one of Akashi’s hand but he felt nothing. It was cold. It felt colder than anything he ever knew. He pressed his other hand slowly on the other side as if trying to bring back the warmth that was once there.

  
But it was too late. Akashi laid still.


End file.
